


Time For a New Game

by EgoDominusTuus



Series: Knives to a Gunfight [3]
Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Manipulation, Obsession, Possession, Sex Games, Sleep Sex, That Thing Not Lust, Voyeurism, all around sexy good time, dub-con, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6017221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EgoDominusTuus/pseuds/EgoDominusTuus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's missing MacCready, so he decides it's time to play a new game with his favorite Sniper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time For a New Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProwlingThunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/gifts).



The camp lay quiet - or as quiet as it could. The sound of snoring, what I could only assume was people attempting to mask the sound of fucking, and the patrol’s silent footsteps filled the air. It made my own movement silent as a shadow, so that no one was the wiser that Charming, Smiling, Devilish Jack had slipped from his personal bunker to spill out amongst the masses. The truth was, I was restless against my crimson sheets. I told myself it was because I was horny - after all, I’d kept my sweet little kitten hidden with me for over a month, teaching and training him to react to the simplest of touches with the sexiest of purrs.

   Now the sheets were empty - I’d let him back out to his bunk (though that didn’t stop me from dragging him back to my crimson room whenever I felt the need) so that he could continue to fulfill his duties as a Gunner. Though there was a part of me that would have gladly kept him cuffed and hidden, I could both see his restlessness and acknowledge that fact that he had the best sniping eye of anyone at our camp. I wasn’t going to lose out on that talent.

   And yet, as I laid in my room without his mewling, sweet warmth - something felt _off_ . Lust - it was lust. That was the only explanation for it - ~~because that word that sounded like it was one I didn’t know~~ \- and one that I had full intentions of satisfying. Jack, after all, always got what he wanted.

  And what I wanted was Robert Joseph MacCready.

  He’d been in his own bunk for a week now, though I’d had him in sweet dark corners, in the showers, while he was out on guard duty, pressed against the ground and still looking out the scope of his rifle. Whenever I knew I could find him alone, I’d sprang like a big cat finally spilling against its prey. Every time, the soft whimper of _Jack_ had spilled from his throat - but my fingers and lips knew the roadmap to his desire, and it was a treasure that I gladly snatched again and again.

  Tonight would make no difference.

  The Gunner camps were all designed in fundamentally the same fashion. Robert slept with the other four long range marksmen that resided at our camp; though he was the most talented, I couldn’t have just one of any specialty. There was a chance that one could be eliminated, that they could be busy, or out on a job, or on patrol. I was a practical leader, more interested in the military fashion of handling things than the chaotic and unorganized way of the Raiders. I fucking hated Raiders - they were filthy, wretched, disorganized creatures with simple minds and an even more simple grasp on how to get what you wanted. It was individuals such as those that gave the Gunners a bad name - people sometimes _compared_ us.

   That wasn’t something that I enjoyed. I was wise enough not to take credit for being the leader of the Gunners - I’d actually set up a red herring in that sense, _Captain_ Wes, over at the Gunner Plaza.

  If anyone was going to be taken out by sniper fire for being the leader of the Gunners, it would be him. He enjoyed the perks of his station - it was worth the risk to him. To me, it simply wasn’t. I’d worked too hard, spilled too much blood, and fucked too many people to get into the position of power that I was in right now… and I wasn’t going to give it up just so that I could sit at the Plaza and dole out orders.

   I’ve always been a man who preferred a more _hands on_ method when it came to my men, anyway.

  All that I wanted at the moment, though, was to be hands on with my kitten. I should have pulled him into my room after the last calls of dinner, but I’d been distracted with business, and I was quite certain that I could stand to be without him for another night. Apparently, my body was sharp and quick to disagree. It seemed that Jack always got what he wanted… even if it was in contradiction to his own assumptions.

   The Sniper’s Loft was on the highest platform in camp - it had been designed that way for strategic purposes. If we were attacked, the occupants would be able to easily crawl to the top of their tin roof and start taking out the enemies with the guns that were stored there. For just a moment, my blood boiled at the thought of being interrupted by any kind of attack tonight - if anything had that audacity, I’d cut them to ribbons. As it were, I didn’t think that we’d have such problems - and I only had one goal in mind. I slipped into the cool darkness of Robert’s tin-shack and let the shadows spill across my frame. The sound of soft breathing met my ears, and a slow smile spread across my lips.

  I could see him there, in the corner, with his back to the wall. His rifle was propped beside his bed, a light curtain partition the only semblance of privacy that he had to his name. I could see the flash of his bare shoulder peeking from beneath his sheets, and my stomach gave a low twist.

  This was perfect.

   In all the times I’d been with him, I’d never seen if he _could_ be quiet - I’d always had him isolated, and in the end, I’d always made him cry out.

   It was time for a new game.

   I made no noise as I slipped behind the curtain that was his privacy, and he didn’t stir when I spilled my leather jacket onto the metal footlocker at the bottom of his bed. For a moment, I simply set back on my heels, biting my lower lip as I surveyed that which was _mine_. My sweet little kitten, who looked cautious even in his sleep. Still, I could see the way that he inhaled, as though he’d caught my scent - a low, half needy, half anxious moan spilled from his lips… and in his sleep, he murmured a word.

   _Jack_.

  That sensation in my chest clenched further, and I felt a small, trembling pulse of need wash over me. There was no hesitation in my movements - I slipped forward and spilled beneath his sheets. His mattress was hardly large enough to hold us both, but I had no intention of being anywhere other than atop him, so I paid that fact no attention. He was already beginning to stir, his body more alert than his sleeping mind. My fingers dove downward, sliding over his lean and taut abdomen, and then slipping into the scant fabric of his shorts. It was hardly a protection against my ministrations, and he came away with a small gasp that I swallowed down with a kiss.

  It would, after all, be unfair if I cheated before the game had even really begun.

   He was a wild thing beneath me for just a moment, scrambling to try to get free, to try to pull me closer. Sweet conflict wrapped into a tawny haired kitten, and it made my cock twitch with the knowledge that I'd fuck him before the night was through. My wrist stroked expertly, thumb running down the thick vein along the bottom of his prick before flicking up to tease at the sensitive flesh of his slit. He whimpered into my mouth, and I drank the sound down like sweet mana from the Heavens. Only when I was sure that he was going to be able to manage to hold his sweet purring in for a moment did I finally pull back from his lips. I stilled the motion of my hand so that he could concentrate long enough to hear the rules of my game.

  My lips were hot against his own, and I could feel the way that his mouth trembled. "Can you keep quiet, kitten?" I leaned down, catching his lower pout between my teeth and giving it a small, sharp bite that drew a small gasp from his throat. "I don't think you can."

  "Jack, wait-" His voice was a low whisper, a whimper of _noandyesplease_ all at once, and my hand started to move again. I was unwilling to give him a chance to think about why this wasn't a good idea. My head dipped down, this time finding the sweet curve of his neck. He tasted like fresh water and sweat all at once, and my tongue was hungry for the pulse at his throat. Another low sound came from his chest, and I could tell that he was trying to swallow it down. His fingers scrambled on the bed, trying to find a purchase that would give him the strength to hold himself back.

   My hand worked another sweet, slow line along his prick, squeezing a clenching tease as I did so - his hips actually arched up from the bed, and I grinned against his neck.

  I was going to win this game - regardless of the outcome - I would be the winner.

  “Jack,” his voice was a desperate, hushed whisper. I could see his blue eyes flicker worriedly to his left - to the fabric that didn’t actually give so much cover from this precarious position. “Please?” And then, when I let my fingers stroke harder against his cock, letting my hips spill forward so that he could feel the hardness of my own prick in answer, he whispered again in an aching voice, _“Please?”_

The sweet cries of please were a mixture of _yesandno_ , and I loved the sound of it. I loved the way that, even as he tried to push me away from him, his hips thrust upward into my palm like a contradiction of his own logic. My lips left his neck, and I let the edge of my tongue trace a slow, hot line along the sweet curve of his collarbone, tracking down the planes of his chest. I paused over the peak of his nipples, and I actually felt him catch a sound in his chest.

  It was a slow circle, my tongue - around the edges of that sweet little nub, so that I could feel his skin drawing in and becoming taut. Only when his breath was coming in achingly sharp gasps did I let the heat of my tongue lap hungrily over that sensitive flesh, my hand actually spilling up at the same time to cover his mouth.

  There was sweet, shocking heat and warmth - my fingers slipped between his lips, drawn in by the way that he was all _wantandneedandpleasestop_. His lips set around my digits, his tongue swirling... and then he was sucking hard. Whether it was to quiet himself, or to tempt me into finishing sooner rather than later, I wasn't sure. But I could feel his tongue working, pressing my fingers against the roof of his mouth as he swallowed and sucked reflexively, like he had another part of my body altogether different to worry with. A trembling pulse spilled along my spine, forcing my hips forward again - my teeth set for just a second against the peak of his nipple, and then I lowered myself further.

  The draw of his mouth on my digits was a constant, heated reminder of what I wanted to do with my cock, but I wouldn't be dissuaded from my game. I shouldn't have been shocked that my sweet kitten was playing back, though I wasn't sure that he knew altogether what he was doing to me. He didn't realize that each reflexive swallow of his throat drew a hot line from my wrist to my dick, and I could all but imagine the feeling of that heat enclosing on that engorged flesh.

  Eventually - eventually, I would have that. But for now, my mouth had more nefarious intentions. My tongue spilled out again, and I took my slow and sweet time in tracing each curve of his torso. I tracked against his abdomen, dipping into the muscles there, taking a moment to blow hot and grape scented breath into his belly button. When I found the shelf of his hip that curved sweet to his pelvis, I let my teeth drag along the line of it, so that his muffled little cry of pleasure was still evident, even through my fingers.

  The soft breathing around us stopped for a moment, and I felt his body shaking in something other than just desire. The sweet tension in his body at the fear of waking up his bunkmates made me all the harder, and I let my mouth sink the last few inches to his prick - there was no decorum or hesitation. I opened my mouth and swallowed the length of him to the back of my throat; the pressure of his teeth setting against my fingers was worth the wild little whimper that poured from his mouth.

   Beside us, I heard someone stir. I swallowed hard against his prick and pulled saliva drenched fingers from his mouth with a slow grin.

  “Mac, you having a wet dream over there or something?” The voice was gruff, but affectionate. I let my mouth slide slowly upward, so that my tongue dipped and delved against the slit of his head.

  “I-I’m…” He swallowed hard, and I returned the favor by taking him deep into my throat again. “I’m fine. Just having a _nightmare_.” He hissed the word out, even as his hips worked upward to meet the motion of my mouth. In half punishment, half reward for his words, I brought my slaver laden fingers down, so that one long digit could pressed a soft promise-threat against the tight ring of muscle that led to his sweet, inner heat.

   “Sounds like my kind of nightmare,” the voice muttered, already half falling back into sleep. Above me, Robert took a breath to respond, and I cut his sharp tongue short with a finger pressing harder, so that the ring of muscle spilled apart and I felt the heat of him clenching tight around my fingers. Always so _tight_ and so _hot_. My favorite place.

   He had to work hard to swallow the small scream that threatened to spill from his throat, and I relished at the sound of it, letting the length of my digit slide slowly inside of him, to the knuckle and then further.

  I could feel his body automatically clenching around my intrusion, and I knew that I had him. He whimpered above me, and I heard it when he brought his own hand up to spill across his betraying lips. He muffled the sound of his need with his palm, while his other hand came down of its own accord, fingers tangling in my hair and hanging on tight, like I was the only anchor left to the world.

   I loved the feel of it. I loved knowing that even when his body twisted so hard, his mind fighting against what was happening, I was his body's true owner. I possessed every inch of his pleasure, and I knew how to wrap it around my finger in a slow and burning string that I could pull taut and snap at any time. When I brought my finger from his innards, I replaced it with two, turning to press my palm against his abdomen so that he couldn't thrust his body up against me.

  I wanted it slow and hot, needy and full of silent begging. He couldn't do it with his mouth - I wanted it with his body, with the slow and trembling burn that was pulsing and coursing through him, painting the back of my throat with the essence of his precum. I licked hungrily, letting the liquid mixture of pre-cum and spittle drench from my mouth to slick down and between his cheeks, making it all the easier for me to dive my fingers inside of him. I twisted them, working forward so that I stroked hard against the bundle of nerves that was the epicenter of his pleasure. Behind his hand, he was whimpering, and I loved the sound of it.

   The even breathing around us was the only thing that seemed to keep his sanity, because no one had woken again to ask what was wrong. There was a part of me that relished the thought of it - his bunkmates waking to his screams. I thought of how often they must have seen him, slipping into his sleeping clothes, his body marked with the bruises from my mouth. I branded him, but I knew they could still covet what was mine. If they had any sense at all, anyone who looked at him would want him - he was the epitome of softly sexual, all lean muscle and blue eyes, innocence wrapped into a package of daring sin.

   And he was all mine.

   Thinking of waking them with him screaming my name made my cock throb, even though I knew that I wouldn't do it if he could hold out on shouting. I wasn't sure how he was managing now, though his body was rocking and trembling harder than I'd ever felt it before. I swallowed his prick down one last time, twisting my fingers again to stroke up hard against his prostate, so that the strength of his hips bucking up was actually enough to force my hand off of his torso. I let a slow and needy smile spread my lips, and I pulled back from his prick.

  In the same moment, I pulled my digits from his clenching and needy depths. The heat of me left him, and I raised up to get a look at him.

  Sweat was a sheen that glistened even in the darkness, covering his body from the effort that he was putting into his silence. He had his hand over his mouth, and his eyes were flared wide, pupils dilated. He was looking at me with such a sweet look of passion and hatred and lust and... something tingling and swirling deeper. With my eyes fixed on his, drinking down that perfect expression, I looped my thumbs beneath the black tank top that I wore and pulled it over my head. When I flipped the fabric over my head and casually dropped it away from my body, his eyes followed the black material for as long as they could before slowly lifting - it was like he was trying not to look… trying not to see the muscular planes of my body, lean and perfect as they were. I knew that scars riddled my chest, my arms, faint in testament to the fact that I hadn’t been cut in years. I was too good for that, now.

  I came up on my knees, spilled between his legs. My fingers found the fasten of my pants and I flicked the button, keeping my eyes locked to his. I could see the heat spreading slowly across his body as I kicked my pants down my hips, the fullness of my prick spilling upward, erect and _aching_ for him. I let my fingers slowly trace from my cut hips, tickling through the trail of dark auburn shorthairs that spilled up to my bellybutton, along the planes of muscle at my torso and along the v-shape of my chest. One hand continued upward, raking through auburn hair so that the tie holding it popped from the strands, letting it spill to curl at the nape of my neck, fall into my eyes. My tongue came out, wetting my lips until they were sleek like velvet… and all the while, I stared down at him, feeling the heat from his body arc up into my own like conductive lightning ravaging the Commonwealth.

  Beneath me, I could see the emotions swirling like a whirlwind through Robert’s blue gaze, and I found that even I wasn’t as good as I thought - I’d intended to toy with him the whole night through, but my body was a throbbing ache, and I needed to feel him around me. I grabbed his hips, flipping his body over in a sudden motion, so that suddenly he was on all fours with his ass in the air like a bitch in heat. His face fell forward into his pillow, the fluff of it muffling the small cry that spilled from his throat from my actions. I fished a small tube from the pocket of my pants, and uncapped it to the sweet scent of grapes. One hand came forward, and I let my fingers run along the sweet smoothness of his ass, a ghost of a touch and a litany of unspoken appreciation for how much I revered this particular portion of him. Flesh lightly spilled over flesh for another moment, and then I let my hand dig soft against that plump flesh, so that I spread his cheek wide, revealing that tight hole, still worked slightly from the ministrations of my fingers earlier.

   I let out a low, appreciative sound, reverberating like a growl through my chest. It spilled into him, and he squirmed. “Shh, kitten…” I murmured the words out, but I could hear the _heat_ and _need_ in my own tone - staring at his center so perfectly presented damn near made me lose myself for a moment, a brief flash of Jackson Blaze Ledman, with his soft Irish accent and his devil’s smile - but no. I was Jack, Gunner Jack. Smiling Jack. Needy, horny, _burning_ Jack.

   Without hesitation, I upended the tube, letting the lubrication slip down along his asshole. My hips came forward, the tip of my prick slicking along that sweet channel, so that I coated myself in a soft sheen of it. The rub of me playing against his needy chasm was doing things to the man beneath me, and I think that the pillow that he was muffled against was the only thing that stopped him from losing our game then and there. But I was losing, too - I couldn’t wait. I fucking _needed_ to _possess_ him then and there.

   I angled back for just a moment, and then I was rocking forward. The thick head of my prick spilled past his defenses, so that I could gyrate and thrust deep inside of him. Even the pillow couldn’t completely muffled the low, needy groan that poured from his chest as I filled him. He started to ride back and up against me, and my fingers found his greedy hips - I grabbed them, slamming him back hard and fast, dragging him hungrily to rake against my prick again and again until we were both gasping in low, needy tones from the sensation of it.

   Beneath me, the pillow still hid my little kitten from me, his face buried into it, his teeth actually set into the fabric. His fingers were clenching at the sheets beneath him - I could feel the warm depths of him clenching hard and fast around my length, as though simultaneously begging me to end his torture and make it last forward. His hips were twisting in my grip, rocking his body back hard and fast like the libidinous kitten that I’d turned him into. His body swallowed the length of my prick again and again, so that I could hear the kiss of my pelvis and testicles as they slapped back against his ass. The sight of my length disappearing inside of him over and over was a brand in my mind - my favorite thing, my favorite fucking sight… and still, I wanted more. I bent low, arching my body so that I could lick a line along his spine, taste the sweat that was spilling from his flesh with exertion and desire.

   My tongue slipped upward, and I dove to his ear, prepared to demand him to come, ready to jerk his head back with fingers in hair so that his shouts woke up the entire camp. My mouth found the lobe of his ear, licking and lapping - and then I heard what his muffled shouts had been all along, screamed into the pillow like a secret confession.

   _JackJackJackpleaseJack…_

My name. _My name._

   And suddenly, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I _needed_ to see his face, I _needed_ to claim his mouth. I _needed_ him.

  My hands spilled around his chest, rocking his body upward and bringing the curve of his frame so that there was no space between his back and my front - my arms held tight to him, curling from his chest over his shoulders. We both sat upright, kneeling, and his body fell perfectly against the line of my own as though he’d been made to fit there. One hand found his hair, so that I could wrench his trembling lips around to claim them with my own, just as orgasm ripped through him at the new, deeper angle that our upright position let me acheive. His spill painted his sheets, arced upward to hit against his chest, the pillow that had a perfect rip where his teeth had been - he was trembling and twitching in my arms, so that it was only my grip around him that kept him steady.

  He cried out into my mouth as his body clenched hard and fast down on my own - my hands on his shoulders, in his hair, rocked his body hard and in tandem with my volley of my hips. I brought him down to spear his sweet center on my prick once, twice, thrice… and then his scream against my mouth was too much, and I drank down that shout and gave him back my own as I spilled hot, thick ropes of pleasure deep into his gut, painting his innards like a branding claim. My prick dove into him one last time, sending the last burst of my fluids deeper than I’d ever delved before… and then there was silence, and the sensation of his tongue working needy and desperate against my own. I could almost hear the throbbing thunder of his heart, but some part of me knew that it wasn’t his, but my own.

  I kept him upright and against my chest for a moment longer, and then I slowly sank down to his mattress, twisting my body so that his smaller frame was sprawled against me. I never broke our kiss, so that when I finally laid my head back, his mouth was still pressed soft against mine. I could feel him trembling, boneless, I could feel the way that he tried to take in breaths - all of it seemed so _hard_ on him, and it just made me all the more satisfied. Finally, he opened blue eyes - half dazed with pleasure, half filled with a swirl of something else. A slow, lazy, completely Cheshire grin spread my lips.

  Slowly, my little kitten let his lips twist into the shiest of smiles, his eyes meeting my own, “I _won_.”

  Petulant, daring, brave little Robert - he knew I was going to make him pay for it… and fuck me, if I didn’t want to right then and there. I leaned in, running a slow, wet line across his lower lip, letting my hands around his body slip to grab tight to his ass cheeks and drag his already sensitive flesh against my hard abdomen. He let out a wild little whimper atop me, and I caught his cry against my lips.

  “For now.” It wasn’t just a threat - it was a promise. He’d issued a challenge, and I was more than happy to know that we could play my new favorite game again, very, very soon.


End file.
